Ah, Sunday, the day of rest. Much needed rest. I got too much rest. Translation: I slept in. My alarm was supposed to go off an hour earlier, but he and I were not on the same page this morning. We made it to church on time, though, and I didn’t really need to eat breakfast anyway. Let me just say, the service was beautiful. We sang basic church songs; nothing fancy, just simple, pure songs straight to God. The message was a recording of David Platt, and it was a good sermon. Again, nothing too fancy, but it was doctrinally correct, and it hit home. I wish every young person could experience church like I did today: forget about the Xbox and the computers used to draw crowds, leave out the fancy band and LED light show, and just return to the basics of worship, praise, and teaching.
After we ate our lunch, we were invited to take a trip into the jungle along with Señor Philipe’s kids and another girl. Now, the jungle here is different than jungle back in America. For one, it’s inhabited by deadly animals. For another, it’s twenty degrees hotter. Also, the plants look cooler, the vines are thicker, and we carried a machete with us just in case we encountered anything big.
It was about a forty-five minute walk to the stream where we were going. It should have been closer to half an hour, but dad took lots and lots of pictures. I wore my cleats, but almost everyone else was barefoot. That’s pretty hardcore. When we got to the creek, we almost immediately waded in. The others were trying to convince me that the water was cold, but it felt like seventy degree bath water to me. It only came up to my knees, but we had lots of fun together: getting wet, dunking people, playing football (kind of), and generally enjoying ourselves immensely. We also tried our hand at improvised fencing, which must have been funny to watch.
While we we having a blast playing in the stream, Logan (Señor Philipe’s 11-year-old son) was busy fishing upstream. He is a big fisherman, and he loves waiting for a big bite on the banks of the water more than just about anything else he does. He caught a nice Chrenicichla, a type of pike, and then dad’s computer friend and Señor Phil both caught a catfish. I don’t know a lot about fishing, but I do know a really dedicated and patient person when I see one, and Logan is about as good as I’ve seen. Later this afternoon, I tried my hand at beach volleyball. For some reason, it looks much easier in the Olympics. I did have fun, though, which was the important part. One of the guys and his wife there were spiking and digging like a pro; it was cool to watch them play. Actually, come to think of it, pretty much everyone there could play pretty well (except me, that is), but like I said, it’s the playing that counts.
As you must know, though, many good things must come to an end, and we had work to do back at the mission house. So at five in the afternoon, we packed our bags, loaded up the boat, and cruised back into town. I don’t want to sound sappy, but I really enjoyed my time with those guys and gals there at the school. I’m not sure if I will ever see them again, but they will always have a special place in my heart because of their friendship and hospitality. And that’s definitely worth coming a thousand miles for.
